Hero Of War
by Albione
Summary: Arthur and Maarten are planning World Domination, and they need a Right-Hand-Man on the front lines, so who better to turn to than the Hero himself? But as Alfred gets his assignments, he realizes, is he really the Hero? Rating for killing.
1. Starter

~18th Century America~

Baby blue eyes scanned the front page of the newspaper as it lay on the table. The main headline;

_Heroes of War_

_Soldiers return from battle_

Alfred grinned like a child, of which of course he was. Heroes. That's what he wanted to be when he was older. Heroes saved people and everyone loved them. He wanted to save people! Alfred's pale small chubby hands lay on the rim of the metal table, staring up at his guardian, Arthur, whose own green eyes looked right back at the child, and he smiled gently, to which, Alfred grinned and pointed to the newspaper.

"They're heroes, right?" He asked, grinning and putting his hands onto Arthur's knee, waiting expectantly for an answer.

Arthur nodded once, resting his elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand as he looked at the child, a rather amused glint in his eyes, which complimented the child's own curious sparkle. "Mhmm, they served their country with honour, of course people call them heroes."

"Then. . . I want to be a soldier! I want to be a hero!" Alfred's expression lit up as he thought about it. Arthur blinked, watching the child then shook his head.

"No, no lad. I'd rather. . .you weren't in any war."

"B-But Dad. . .! I want to be a hero!"

"No buts. I don't want you to get hurt."

Alfred pouted slightly, glaring up at his guardian. He wanted to be a hero so badly, it was his dream, and now stupid England was telling him he couldn't be one. The Brit reached down and ruffled the child's hair, smiling as he did it.

"Now, now, don't pout Alfred. You'll be a hero to me, no matter what you do." Arthur smiled warmly toward him, wiping away the pouting expression. It turned to a happy and content smile as he looked at the man with the big eyebrows and hugged his leg. He was thankful to have such a man as his guardian, his parent.

~21st Century~

England used to be one of the largest colonies of the world. American territories, Canadian territories, Belize, Jamaica, the Bahamas, Egypt, Nigeria, and well, you get the idea. It was big. But Arthur's empire rivalled with that of the Netherlands. Both empires were great and powerful, flourishing through the centuries. That was, until both crumbled away, until England was left with a few countries, here and there and the crown.

But no matter how much Arthur tried to suppress it, he wanted his Golden Era back; he wanted to literally rule the world. But he couldn't do that, not without help. So he called on his old Buddy Netherlands at a party, soon the two of them were planning world dominance, getting countries to sign here and there, building up a force to take over. Promises were made left, right and center. Promises of new land, better systems, equal rights. And soon, they had countries under their control. Many of them.

But, Arthur and Maarten needed a man. A man to do their front line work for them. Someone to be out on the field in their place and get what was needed. And England knew just the man.

* * *

><p><strong>FOOTNOTE:<strong>

This story is just based on a song I heard~ Hero of War by Rise Against, and a RP I've been doing with a friend for a while, so if the characters seem to be slightly crack, then that's why. For example, NethIre is in this story, and that's because in the RP they're together. Also, some of the characters can seem OOC, but that's for a reason.

Eh..what else..Oh yes, this story might take a while to update, but that's because I'm really busy in my life, so I can't get around to writing this as much, and I've preprepared chapters already.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Alfred was lounging around his house, his feet up on the sofa, with his chin rest lazily on his arm on the other end of the couch, stomach down. The only work the teen was actually doing, was lifting up the TV remote, and flicking through the channels, trying to find something to watch. God, he was bored, and daytime TV sucked. Gah, another history show. . . Alfred dropped the remote and let his arm go limp, hitting the floor. Listening to the rather droning voice come from the television. The American turned his head so that his face was buried in his arm. His glasses were pushing against his face slightly, into his face and he sighed. There had to be something to do, surely.

Then luckily for Alfred, the doorbell rang, and he sat up. Swivelling his body around so that he got off the sofa, the doorbell rang a second time. God, this guy was impatient.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. . ." Alfred said, his voice still slightly bored, pretty monotone. He got up and answered the door, and was rather surprised to see the man of England standing there, arms crossed against his classic green army suit. Alfred quirked a brow.

"Eh? Artie, what are you doing here?" He asked. Nope, no hello, no how are you, blunt and straight to the point with Alfred. Arthur sighed, and quirked one of those massive eyebrows.

"Well, I needed to talk to you, how would you like to be. . .a hero?" Arthur smirked, a lopsided smirk as he looked at the boy. If the American was going to be blunt, then so would the Brit. Alfred stared at him for a moment, and frowned. Although, his expression was fairly obvious that he was intrigued.

"A . . .hero?" He asked simply. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, a Hero. We. . . myself and Netherlands, have a job for you. It would make you a hero," Arthur explained. Alfred had heard about his former guardian's plot with Maarten van der Meer, and he wasn't too fond of it in all honesty. He had rebelled in 1776 for a reason, to be independent. He wasn't about to sign himself over.

"What kind of job?"

"Well, we'll give you a gun, and training, and you shall be our right hand man. You will go out into battles for us, fight for the honour of the New Era, and you'll be paid and classed as a hero that will go down in history," Arthur continued, a rather smug smile played on his face. He was getting the cards straight, as if he'd prepared this, which in fact . . . he had.

The teen's expression lit up instantly. A hero! And to go down in history for it . . ._ and_ get paid? That was wicked, dude. Alfred started nodding, the same grin he wore a child was plastered on his face.

"Yeh sure dude! I'll do it! It'll be cool!" He said, and the Brit's smile grew to a wide grin, almost ear to ear.

Alfred started getting fidgety on the spot, he was excited. Who knew what kind of heroic duties he'd have to do for them?

"Alright, that's lovely, lad. Here," Arthur unfolded his arms and took out a piece of paper, handing it to the American. Alfred opened it up the second he was given it. It was directions, and by the looks of it, to a camp in the middle of nowhere.

"This. . is our base in all honesty. It's a training ground, and where me and Maarten meet and discuss our next steps, and most of the countries that signed are actually able to stay, or discuss any problems they might have, so that myself and Netherlands can solve them before they become an issue for all of us," The Brit explained, followed by a rather odd smile. He gave the American no time to reply, before he started talking again. "I'll see you there then lad. I look forward to it."

And with that, the Brit had walked off, leaving the American, still in his pyjama's, standing in his doorway looking at the piece of paper with a rather blank expression. His thoughts started travelling through his head, what was he going to do? Join Arthur and Maarten? Or. . .remain a free country? But. . .he wanted to be a hero so. . .and plus, it wouldn't be that bad would it? Just a few errands, no one would need to be killed. Right? Alfred shrugged and put the piece of paper on the table, noticing there was a message at the bottom.

_Alfred, if you take the paper, please come to the base shown above on the 5__th__ of May at 11am for recruitment briefs. Signed, Maarten. Netherlands._

Alfred sighed and looked at the time on the phone. It was the fourth. So, that brief day was tomorrow . . . fan-fucking-tastic. Alfred was supposed to be going out with Matthew. But, I guess that would just have to wait. He had a job now, he was gonna be a hero! Surely the Canadian would understand if he missed one day for work. Alfred shrugged, suppose he'd better ring up.


	3. Chapter 2

~~NC~~

Alfred looked around the camp he'd made his way into. The floor and path was covered in gravel and small stones. To the right was a large building. Alfred assumed it was the quarters fo the few who decided to stay on the site. When the American looked to the left, he saw a second concrete building. This building was shorter in stature compared to the first, but was a lot longer in length. Across the site from where the teen stood, were more concrete block buildings. Alfred assumed each had a different purpose within the site.  
>Alfred kind of stood there for a rather long time before he noticed Arthur in the doorway with his arms crossed and one of those large eyebrows raised. He tilt his head to the side as a gesture, and Alfred took it and started to walk in that direction. Arthur, being the gentleman he was, he held the door open for the teen and lead the blonde, blue-eyed man to the conference room.<p>

The Brit lead the American teen into the room, and Alfred took a seat in one of the wooden chairs. The teen was relieved to know hue wasn't the new recruit. Also in the seats was a blonde young man, a pair of red-heads, male and female, and a brunette in the back.  
>Alfred took the spare seat on the left of the red-headed female and leant back into the seat. The girl turned her head slightly and smiled to the teen. The male on the other side with a fierce expression and a resemblance to Arthur, tensed his shoulders and crossed his arms on his stomach as he scowled and slouched in his seat. Clearly the man had a connection to the girl.<br>Alfred looked at the girl from the corner if his eye. She looked similar to Arthur too...her hair was a darker red to the male's and her face had numerous freckles scattered on the nose and her cheeks. Her eyes were a bright emerald green, and she appeared happy. But as Alfred note the meeting had started, the girls expression became almost reluctant, much like the male beside her. It was clear neither of them wanted to be in that place.

Arthur sat at his wooden desk and took a deep breath and looked at each face in the room with fake interest.  
>"Welcome to the Anglo-Dutch camp. Unfortunately Mr van der Meer wasn't able to make it to the introductory meet, something about tulips and Canada, but it's good to see you all could make it." He paused as he took in the expressions of the people in the room. The red-heads who happened to be Ireland and Scotland, Arthur's elder brother and his sister, did not look pleased at all. Either of them. They both looked as if they'd much rather be somewhere else, or just didn't like the man speaking.<br>The young blonde man, was Maarten's younger brother, Luxembourg. He looked like he was perfectly fine sitting there in silence. Very much the obvious of his brother, who was a bit of a stoic harsh man when it came to business. His brother was very much a quiet obedient man.  
>The brunette in the back was Italy. South Italy to be specific. He looked tsundere, and much like the two red heads in the front row. Reluctant to be there.<br>Alfred on the other hand...was in a group of his own. He looked almost excited to be there in comparison to the others.

"Fine. I'll sign your damned contract," Iain growled, getting to his feet as his sister sat down. He took the pen in hand, and signed a second contract. As the man sat down once more, Eily smiled weakly at him. A sympathetic understanding smile.  
>Arthur nodded and leant on his entwined hands still, wearing that smirk.<br>"Henri? Lovino?" He said, and the two men looked up and walked over. In turn with the Luxembourger first, they took the pen and signed the contract, handing over their loyalty to the Brit.  
>Then those green eyes of his looked toward his former charge. Alfred felt himself tense as the Englishman looked at him. Why hadn't he been asked to sign yet?<br>"Alright, you may leave, apart from you Alfred. I must speak with you privately," He said, looking directly at the teen. Alfred felt his eyebrows crease slightly. What was going on? H-Had he done something wrong? W-Was Arthur mad at him?  
>As soon as the other 'opposing' countries left the room, Arthur moved his eyes from his charge.<br>"The reason I've kept you behind lad, is because you've quite a different position in this camp compared to those you've just seen." Arthur paused, giving that a short when to sink in before he continued. "You're going to be our front line guy, our right hand man. This job requires you must be brave, daring, obedient, and a _hero_."  
>Alfred took a moment to think before his childlike face and baby blue eyes lit up. A hero!<br>"Cool! What do I have to do?" The American asked.

Arthur smirked at the teen's enthusiasm. "You will need to just take our orders and complete them. In fact we might just have one soon for you. But for now, you and Vash can go to the armoury and acquaint yourself to the weapons we have here. You'll be staying in room 3, I assume you'll be staying here."  
>Alfred nodded. He didn't want to be at home when his hero base was at this camp.<br>As Arthur swished his hand at the teen, Alfred rose from his seat and left moving toward the exit.  
>As the teens feet connected to the gravel that covered the pathways between the buildings. Alfred's face dropped as hr realized he didn't have a clue where the gun range was...he stumbled around for a while before he heard a voice speak behind him.<br>"Lost are we lad?" Alfred turned and saw the male red-head from the meeting. Iain was it? Alfred looked at the man's expression. He didn't look too happy in honesty. His large eyebrows, that all of Britannia had, were furrowed and his brow creased, and he was scowling furiously. Someone had pissed him off badly and Alfred assumed it must have been Arthur.  
>"Uhm...no...sorta...yeah..." Alfred stammered to the man. Iain raised an eyebrow at the teen.<br>"Aye or nae?" He asked. Preferring the simple answers to the hard ones. Alfred replied with a single nod, and Iain smirked.  
>"Where're you headed kid?" The Scot asked, and Alfred blinked.<br>"The gun range. Arthur told me to go," He replied.

Iain nod once, and started walking in a direction, putting his hands into his jacket pockets. There were white sashes from each shoulder, crossing on his chest and joining to the opposite hip. A constant reminder that even though under England's rule, he was still his own person. So he wore his flag around his torso. Even Arthur couldn't take that away from him.

The Scot led Alfred toward yet again, another concrete building that was lower that the rest, much more...flat. Alfred stared at the building with wide baby blue eyes, scanning the scenery cautiously and with great curiosity. Iain snickered when he'd turned his head back to look at the boy. Though, the back of the man's mind nagged with worry. 'What did his pesky little brother have in store for this young man?' was the question most repeated.

As the two males entered the gun range, they were great by Vash. Switzerland, who was the camp's expert on guns and weaponry. Soon, this expert had picked a gun for the teen, and was getting him to practise with it. Shooting down the bright red and white targets that were riddled with holes as each bullet shot straight through the wood.

A few hours later, with the teen tired out from all the practise he'd had (Those guns could really kick), Iain led him to his room, where both were great with yet another familiar face. The red-headed girl that Alfred had sat next to.

"Eire!" Iain cried out upon seeing her. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around his sister and picked her up in a bear hug. The girl, who blinked her eyes with surprise pushed against him and coughed.

"Alba you eejit! Put me down!" She protest, smiling when he finally did, and jabbing him in the arm playfully, to which he returned with a punch of his own. She stuck her tongue out at him, and with a threat of "I'll pinch that and cut it off if you do that again," She turned her gaze to the American.

"Dia duit there lad," She said, using her own dying language of Irish to say Hello to the teen. Of course, Alfred didn't understand...and just not his head politely. Nantucket on his head bobbing with the motion.

"Hi~!" He said in reply, his voice characteristically bouncy and cheerful.

"I'm Ireland, or Eily if you prefer," She said again, raising an eyebrow at the tone. Never had she met someone so cheerful like him, not in this world anyway.

"Nice to meet you dude, I'm Alfred F. Jones. But you can call me Alfred," He replied, keeping that famous and shining smile on his face. Iain, who stood at her side just watched, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"No...Alfie," Ireland said with a bob of the head and a grin.

"Alfie?" America repeat, sounding quite surprised. The look on his face was replaced with one of confusion.

"Aye. Alfie!"

"What...Why...Why Alfie?"

"I don't know, it's cute?"

"Fine...Hey wait, you're Irish right?" America blinked his blue orbs as he looked at the girl, who stared back in slight disbelief. Had he really just asked that? Iain snickered before he burst out laughing, clutching his stomach and doubling over in a laugh.

"Nae lad, I'm Dutch. Of course I'm Irish!" Eily snickered herself after saying it as she looked at the teen.

Alfred nod a few times as his brain worked to come up with a nickname for the girl. "Lucky!" He finally exclaimed. Immediately, Iain stopped his laughing and straightened, coughing and glancing at his sister. Eily, was stood, staring at the American before she forced a smile onto her face.

"L-Lucky? Why that name, hm?" She said, her voice rather quiet.

"Cause! The Irish are lucky, aren't they?" Alfred replied. He thought it was a great name! It fit so well! But, Eily didn't think so. She just gave a nod of the head and a small smile.

"Sure lad. The Irish are Lucky. When we aren't being..." She stopped herself, and just nod again. Better to let the lad think what he wanted, rather than crush him now with the stories of the Irish history.

Alfred just tilt his head, then shrugged, rather than pressing on. As Alfred started asking questions to the Irish girl, she and Iain began to explain to Alfred what had been going on, and why they specifically where there, in that camp.

Apparently, it went a little like...Arthur and Maarten were drunk at the New Years party (Alfred remembered that, and got a few comical pictures of his former guardian) and decided it would be a good idea to get their Empires back. Unfortunately, Eily, being Maarten's fiancée and Arthur's sister, was almost immediately dragged into it. Though, it took a while to convince her, as she and Alice, a part of England and Arthur's twin sister, were not keen on the idea. Sadly, the two men were serious about the whole thing, and the women signed, albeit reluctantly. Iain, who was the elder brother of Eily, decided to go along with it, so he could protect his little sister, and make sure she would be alright throughout this time, like he was unable to the last time she was under England's rule.

They'd long since given up the idea of rebellion by that time...what could they do if they were already under Arthur's rule, but sit back and watch their brother fall?

Alfred, with a nod of the head as he listened, managed to comprehend it all. Somehow. The accents were a little thick for the American, but he understood. This might actually be alright. If he got to talk to Eily and Iain, it might just go smoothly.


	4. Chapter 3

The note has said Arthur's office, so that was were Alfred had went. He walked in the double doors of the concrete building as he took a few glances around, the walls were bland and lifeless compared to some of the rooms the teen had been in the past few days. He'd grown really close to some of the people in the base, specifically the other members of the United Kingdom and Ireland. He found them funny, and Iain remembered things from Alfred's own past, such as when he was a child and lived with Arthur. Iain could recount the events clearly, and each time there would be laughter, and Alfred enjoyed that.

But here he stood, outside the door of England's office, and he gently rapped the door with his knuckles, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

"Come in," Said a quiet voice in a British accent. Alfred took the handle and pushed the door open, his eyes scanning the room he'd been in only once before. And that was on the briefing day. Arthur was sat at the leather chair in the desk opposite the door, to the left was a large window that overlooked the courtyard between the buildings.

All Alfred could see of the Brit was the tousled blonde hair as his head was lowered, deep in thought with paperwork.

"Stand," He said. And Alfred did. He stood. A few steps between the door and desk, rocking on his heels nervously. Without looking up, the Brit started speaking. "Do you know why you're here, Alfred?"

The American's heart dropped. Had he done something wrong? Spoken to someone he shouldn't of? Done something that had offended the Brit? Before he actually had time to think about it, Arthur continued.

"Well, we have an order for you. That is, if you're ready," He said. He gave the teen a moment to think about this, then looked up from his work, putting the pen on the desk with a small tap as he lift his head and looked at him. Green eyes scanning over his body, from head to toe, as if seeking something.

Alfred's own eyes widened slightly, and a grin formed on his face and he nod. Once, twice and again.

"Of Course I'm ready! Why wouldn't I be? I've been training since I got here, of course!"

"Alright then, here's the deal."

Arthur leant back in his seat, his elbows resting on the table, with his fingers entwined on the wood. A smug smile, satisfied grew on his face as he looked over Alfred, his eyes glint at some unknown factor. It was a moment before he picked up a piece of paperwork that littered the mahogany desk.

"Alright...So, we've someone we need you to go and get, and bring back to us for questioning," He said simply, the smug being wiped from his face as he looked over it.

Alfred paused. That wasn't the sort of thing he'd expected to be doing...He thought he'd have to go and actually save someone. Like...someone was in trouble, so he'd bail them out and become a hero.

"Okay...Who?" He asked, voice slightly dull.

"Hm..A South American country, so you won't be going far."

Alfred frowned slightly. South America? They were sort of his neighbours, much like his brothers, or at least very close friends, so Alfred knew them well.

"Who? Which one?" The American asked.

"Brazil," Arthur replied simply, moving his eyes with that nasty glint from the teen to look out of the window. Eyes scanning over the grounds just outside, looking at the people there and the buildings. Alfred however, just sat there for a moment as he thought about it. Find Brazil? His friend? The next thought posed a question, to which he asked.

"What's gonna happen to him when I bring him here?"

Arthur blinked and returned his eyes back to the teen. "Oh, nothing bad. Me and Mr van der Meer just want to have a talk to him. Then we'll let him go,"

The eyebrows twitched. An action Alfred used to find hilarious back when he was a child, and they still made him snicker, but no. Not right now. Not while they were talking about finding a friend and bringing him here for interrogation.

"Why Brazil?" Alfred piped up, looking to his mentor for answers. Arthur's brow furrowed as he sighed.

"A few reasons. Ever since me and Netherlands stared this, Brazil has been a thorn in our side. He's attempt to steal our contracts, convince people not to sign and various other irritating things...So we've decided to question him about it."

"Alright...I suppose...I can do it," Alfred said, looking down at his thumbs for a bit before sighing.

"Good. Glad lad, you'll be fine. I have faith that you can do it." Arthur said, a smug, sinister smirk growing on his face as Alfred nod.

Then, Arthur got up and left the room for the mission he'd been given.

As the American left, he walked out into the courtyard, and as soon as he did, he felt a hand clap him on the back. The teen turned to look at Eily, who was standing there, a fierce expression on her face.

"What'd he ask you to do?" She inquired to the teen. Alfred blinked a few times, curious as to why he should tell her.

"Eh...nothing important." He replied. "Just...to clean something up."

Eily nod, a small frown playing on her face and she sighed, then smiled at him. "Alright...but...if he tells you to hurt someone, then don't. Tell me if he does."

And with that the girl was gone, probably gone to join her elder brother again. Alfred got the feeling that she knew something about the Brit, but then again, someone with history like that with Arthur, how could she not be suspicious? The American teen sighed, and shook his head, glancing at the floor before he took his leave. To gather his forces and get organized for his plane trip to South America.


	5. Chapter 4

HOW – Chapter four

Alfred stood outside the Latin American household, standing and staring at the door for a while. The curtains were closed all around the house, upstairs and down. It was as if they were expecting him. If he was to tilt his head to the left, he'd see the cars parked up at the side. British intelligence was right, Alfred thought. They were having a meeting inside the building. They were his neighbours, some where great friends of his. Like the man he'd come to capture, they'd been friends for a long while. Now, he felt as though he was betraying them.

The American teen let out a sigh, and knocked on the door, his team of men stood behind him. Their FBI uniforms clear as they surrounded the house, guns raised already. The clink of guns sounded, and Alfred turned his head to the window, a flutter of a curtain moving had caught his attention, and light footsteps sounded inside the house. Alfred sighed and knocked again, a little louder this time.

"We've got you surrounded. We only want Dav- Brazil. So hand him over and no one gets hurt!" The American called, more at the door than into the house. He'd almost slipped and called Brazil his human name, Davi. This was business, not a hangout.

When no response was heard from inside the home, Alfred took a moment to look at the porch, before he sighed and hoist his gun. The black gloves making it hard to move his hand as he pulled the trigger, shooting down where he assumed the bolts of the door were, and kicked it in, lifting his gun as he took a slight crouching stance and walked over the wooden door carefully and slowly.

"Brazil! Come out now and no one gets hurt!" Alfred yelled through the house again. He lowered his gun and stood at the base of the stairs, as a few of his men ran into the house and started marching about, yelling "Clear" After they'd inspected a room for tangos.

Alfred head a voice come from upstairs, and turned his gaze to the ground, sighing deeply, before turning his attention back to the stairwell, and beginning to climb. He adjusted his glasses before lifting his gun and going to the first room, and doing as training instructed, opening the door and moving gun first into the dark room. No reaction from any occupant, probably not there. Alfred left the door open, and moved onto the next room, putting the gun inside for a moment. His baby blue eyes scanned the room and he sighed. Nope. No one again.

"Ya vienen. . ." (They're coming.)

Alfred tensed on the spot and immediately turned, hoisting his gun and looking down the barrel. He'd heard that, he hadn't imagined it. It was coming from the room on the left, he was sure of it.

Alfred frowned at himself. He felt like he was playing a game. . .not that this was his real life. This was turning into a war game, and he was the hero? . . .Yes of course he was. Alfred shook his head, getting rid of any doubt as he walked toward the room he'd heard the voice from.

"Cale a boca Aldemo!" (Shut up Aldemo!) Hissed a voice. Alfred recognised the language, and the tone. Davi.

"Pero por que?" (But why?) Replied the first voice, much younger than Brazils own. Alfred sighed. There were children in there. Alfred frowned and put his hand on the door handle as he listened to the hushed argument between the siblings. Alfred took a breath and opened the door, pointing the gun at the human huddle in the corner, before flicking the lights on and taking in the Latin American countries expressions. Most were young. . .they were all huddled together. Alfred choked on his breath at the sight of their faces, they were obviously scared.

Alfred lowered his gaze away from the huddle and out into the hallway.

"I found them. Second floor, requesting backup, stat!" He yelled into the hall. Immediately, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and turned his attention back to the huddle of Latin Americans. Alfred scanned through their faces, and picked off Davi. He was at the front, a long with Jacob, or Argentina, trying to keep their younger siblings calm. Alfred knew for a fact, that none of them were younger than 13.

He sighed and looked at Brazil, gesturing with his gun for the teen to get up and leave the room, but Alfred held his tongue. Davi turned his body to face the American, and sighed. A small smile played on his lips as he turned to look at his family again, then steadily got to his feet.

"Ahcha . . . You got me. . ." Davi said to Alfred. He was smiling, which confused the man. The Brazilian was being captured here, taken away, but he was smiling about it, as if he was about to win an award. Alfred hesitated before he spoke, there were two men flanking his sides now, all aiming guns at the huddle, in case they tried to do something. It was hard for the American teen not to notice Jacob's harsh glare, and he didn't blame him for it. Alfred was splitting their family.

"Put your hands up where I can see them. . ." Alfred said, lifting his gun slightly for emphasis. Brazil kept a rather calm, relaxed smile on his face as he lifted his arms above his head.

The American teen kept his gun aimed, as an agent of his came out from behind him and forced Brazil to turn around, placing the harsh handcuffs around his wrists. Alfred watched as a child ran out from the huddle and latched himself onto Brazil, in tears and clinging to his shirt, burying his head in Davi's shirt.

"No," The child whined as he kept his hands wrapped around Brazil's waist. "You can't. . .you can't leave!"

Immediately, the men behind Alfred lift their guns and took aim at the child. Alfred tensed, he didn't want to see the child die.

"Aldemo . . . let go," Davi said gently to the child. Aldemo shook his head and tightened his grip around the older male. The child's entire form was trembling against the Brazilians. Jacob turned and put his hand on the childs shoulder, gently pulling him away from his brother and the child let go, reluctantly.

There were tears streaming down the childs face as he looked at the floor, shaking and sniffing often. As Davi watched his younger sibling, his expression turned sad, his eyes narrowed slightly and he looked at Alfred, with pleading eyes. Alfred, in answer to the unspoken question nodded once and averted his eyes. He heard the Brazilian sigh as he knelt down beside his brother and whisper.

"Fique Aldemo forte. Eu estarei pensando em voce. Todos voces." (Stay strong Aldemo. I'll be thinking of you. All of you.)

The Brazilian leant away with a faint smile on his lips and leant up and kissed the child's raven black hair.

"Eu te amo,"(I love you.) He said as he looked at the child, then over his shoulder at the others. The FBI agent put his gloved hand on the teens back, forcing him to stand and turn away from his family. Jacob scowled and pulled Aldemo back into the huddle.

"Davi," He said, crystal clear.

"Sim?" Davi sighed and turned back to his siblings as Alfred put a hand on the Brazilian's back, encouraging him to hurry up. Arthur would not be please, they were taking too long with all these goodbyes.

"Vuelve." (Come back.)

Davi sighed and simply turned away from his brother, causing the blonde teen to hiss slightly in annoyance.

Alfred began to apply pressure to his hand, pushing the teen out. As soon as they were out of the room, leaving behind two agents as guards, a pair of gloved hands roughly shoved a grain sack over the Brazilian's head, just as protocol, and the teen did nothing.

As the other FBI agents left the house, Alfred followed after them. His first assignment had gone without any trouble, he'd captured the Brazilian and was on his way to taking him back to the base for interrogation. But, the dirty blonde teen wasn't feeling happy or heroic as he thought he would of. The faces of the younger Latin American countries rang in his mind, especially the child Aldemo's crying.

That same day, later on the flight home, it was the American's turn to watch the captive. He got up from his comfy seat as his friend came to him, telling him it was his turn. As the two American's crossed paths, they Bro-fisted each other and Alfred smirked, and carried on walking. At least he could stay close to his men in this. Alfred walked to the Cargo hold, where their new prisoner was perched on a wooden crate and looking out the only window. His expression was rather mellow, and there was no smile there had been once before. Alfred sighed and took seat on the nearest wooden crate, looking at the Brazilian for a while, before Davi turned his head to look at him.

"Ola. . . Alfred," He said quietly. The Blonde teen tensed. Davi didn't sound happy, he sounded down instead.

"Hey dude," Alfred replied quietly, averting his blue eyes from the Brazilian's brown ones. "How're you?" The teen asked. A little of a stupid question considering what Davi'd been through that day. He was supposed to be having a meeting about his continent, but it was interrupted by American FBI, and was taken away from his family by the guy he looked up to in life.

"I s'pose I'm ok. Ahcha. . . you?" The Brazilian sighed. Moving his gaze to the window once more, watching the clouds drift.

Alfred nodded and decided to become interested in his gun, playing with the ammo catch idly, as he stared at the grey metal panelling on the floor. The cargo hold was silent for a while in terms of talking. The only sounds was the constant hiss and click of the ammo catch, the whir of the plane engines and the occasional metal clinking as Davi moved his hands on his lap, causing the Handcuffs to rattle.

"I don't blame you, you know," Davi said quietly. Alfred blinked as he looked at the gun and raised his head, pulling on the catch so much that it caused all the ammo to spill out, causing copper cased bullets to scatter out on the floor.

"What?" Alfred looked at the Brazilian in surprise. He wasn't blamed? But why not? He was the one who took Davi away, he was the one who threatened to kill him and his family, and he wasn't to blame?

"I don't blame you," Davi turned his head to look at the American again, his expression completely calm. "You look beaten about it . . . I don't blame you for it. You were acting under orders, not being a jerk about it . . . it was something you were ordered to do and you did it well."

Alfred looked at his friend in complete surprise. This had to be some kind of lie. A mind trick or something, anything but what the teen was actually hearing. Alfred coughed and hung his head, out of surprise as he widened his blue eyes.

"But . . . don't you hate me?" His normally smiling face turned into a frown as he looked at the floor.

Davi raised one of his raven eyebrows and smirked.

"Sim, (Yes) I do. But . . . I don't blame you. You used to be the hero, Alfred. But you're working for the villains," Davi stated as he looked at him, causing the American teen to tense on the spot. He wasn't the hero? But . . . Davi was the bad guy in this, Arthur had said so himself. But now, Alfred wasn't so sure. What were the Brit's intentions behind all this? He'd never been told. Just that . . . Alfred had to find Davi and take him captive, like he'd done. But it wasn't his place to question his superiors . . . or else land him in trouble. He shift on the spot, causing the empty gun to rattle in it's case, he then started to pick up the bullets and stuff them into his pockets. Dam, there were many, and now he was unarmed. Brazil could run if he wanted, but instead, the teen turned his head and looked out the window again, and the remainder of Alfred's turn watching the captive passed in silence, as the teen thought about what he'd been told. Was he really the bad guy?


	6. Chapter 5

HOW – Chapter five

America gripped the Brazilian's teen as he led the raven haired man through the grounds. A bag on his head once more, to protect his identity as he was led through the courtyard toward the meeting building, where Alfred knew for a fact that was where Arthur would be. The building seemed to loom over the teen, and he had a bad feeling about this . . . but he had to do as told, and the doors were opened, allowing the two males to walk into the dank corridor. Something definitely felt off about this place, and it was slightly scaring Alfred. Something. . .was hanging in the air, and he didn't like it. He shuddered as a thought passed over him when he looked at the back of the sack over his former friend's head. This could be the last place Davi knows . . . he thought. No, that was stupid. He'd be fine, the most they were going to do was lock the teen up, Arthur had said that. Nothing more. But as he brought the teen into Arthur's office room, he wasn't so sure.

The Brit sat on his normal leather chair, behind his desk with his elbows on the desk, and his chin rested on his fists, a smirk on his face. It was a rather sinister smirk, and it slightly frightened the teen. It wasn't that though, what made Alfred doubt that Davi would be let free after this, it was the fact there was a second man in the room. Much larger than the Brit, with blonde spikes on his head, a blue and white scarf wrapped around his neck, despite the fact it was rather warm in the room he also wore a tan trench coat. The man had a pipe in his mouth, but it wasn't lit. The thing that interested Alfred the most, was the scar above the man's right eye. Immediately questions sprung into the teens mind, getting the better of his childlike nature, but he retained them. Alfred figured that this man must be Netherlands, Maarten van der Meer. And he was holding a bat, a metal bat.

Alfred shuddered as he looked at the bat, and the man smirked. "Don't worry kid, we won't be using this on you. Not today anyway."

Alfred felt Davi tense beneath his hand, clearly recognising the voice, and was visibly afraid of it. He shuddered once and went to take a step back, away from the direction the voice came from, but the American teen was in the way. Arthur frowned as he watched the entire happening.

"Davi, hold still, it'll make it easier for you," The Brit said, smirking slightly soon afterward. "Alfred, the bag if you will."

Alfred hesitated, before he reached up and took the fabric between his hands and removed the bag from the Brazilian's head, and as Davi adjusted to his surroundings and recognised the two people in the room, he tensed a second time and pushed against the American, clearly wanting to be out of the room. Even if the man knew this was coming . . . he was afraid. Alfred simply pushed back, keeping the Brazilian in place, but then had a rather hard time doing so after Davi saw the bat. He started struggling and swearing in his own language.

The Dutchman frowned and got from his seat, picking up the metal bat by the handle, gripping it tightly as he watched Davi's eyes widen as he stared closely at the approaching man, and continued trying to get away, pushing harder and harder onto Alfred's arm. Alfred himself, was also watching Maarten approach with the bat, it really did look intimidating, him standing there, taller than most, gripping the bat with both hands and a menacing frown on his face. He brought the bat down in one swoop, and caught the Brazilian in the side of the head, sending him to the right, and to the floor. Davi yelped as he was hit, almost like a kicked puppy, and Alfred blinked, baby blue eyes wide and in shock, he slowly lowered his arm from where it had been, keeping the Brazilian from leaving the room, and he turned his head slowly to look at Davi on the floor.

The teen was curling up, bringing his knees from the side, and hugging them to his chest with one arm, the other was pressed against the side of the head, where a trickle of blood was able to be seen, rolling down past his ear and onto his shoulder. His brown eyes were clenched shut and his face contorted in pain and fear as he pushed himself along the floor, to back up against the wall.

Maarten gripped the bat and raised it, ready for another blow, and Alfred held his ground, but he was horrified. Yes he had his doubts that the Brazilian would be let free, but he didn't expect to have to watch it! He took a step backward, mumbling what he said beneath his breath. "If you don't need me. . .I'll just be going," He said, and started to turn, but before he could, a British voice spoke up.

"Wait," Arthur said simply, and Alfred turned again, and saw Maarten freeze midair with the bat, but caused Davi to whimper in fear, muttering things in his own language, apologies and pleads for freedom.

The Brit move his green eyes to look at his business partner, who straightened his back and slung the bat onto his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Ja?" (Yes?)

A sinister smirk spread on the Englishman's face as he looked at the Dutchman, before flickering his shifty gaze to his former charge, who was on the verge of leaving, and looked back with confusion, and slight refusal. Alfred didn't want to be there, not then. He'd rather be with Lucky, and talking about history with her, or with Ludwig and Vash, learning how to use a gun. He'd rather even be with Iain and challenge him to a drinking contest, which he'd lose obviously. Anywhere but there in that room, watching his former friend die by the hands of his parent figure in life.

"Maarten, give Alfred the bat," Arthur said, his tone calm yet viscous. Alfred widened his eyes further, if that were possible. He tore his eyes away from Arthur and adjusted the glasses on his face. Maarten raised an eyebrow at the Brit once more, then shrugged, heaving the metal bat from his shoulder and holding it out for the American to take. Alfred turned his head back and stared at the polished weapon. When he didn't go to take it, or say anything, Arthur continued.

"Alfred, you need to learn to kill. It's what a soldier does," He said, matter of factly. "People die, so that others can live. Hero's do have to kill from time to time . . . kill the bad guy. The bad guy in this story, is Davi. The hero remember, is you Alfred. You need to do this. Or are you too chicken? Too much of a wimp?" The taunting created a smirk, evil and bitter on the Brit's face. He knew that the American teen was going to be timid to kill at first, but he'd get used to it. And edging him on to do it, was going to be a very successful way to get Alfred to do it, and get Davi killed in the process.

Maarten furrowed his eyebrows, keeping his arm outstretched with the bat in his hand.

Alfred hesitated at Arthur's words, they cut him deep. If . . . being a hero . . . meant killing his old friend . . . then . . . was he really a hero? No, stupid thoughts. Of course he was! He was America! He was the Hero! He reached out and gripped the bat, feeling the cold metal through his gloves. Maarten smirked, and let go of the bat, giving the American full control.

Baby blue eyes glanced at the Brazilian in the room, who was looking back at his friend with a horrified, petrified expression as he glanced at the bat in the American's hands. This really was it, end of the line. Davi hung his head and mumbled something, shaking his bloodied head and grimacing into his knees that he hugged to his chest. Alfred gripped the bat tight, his expression turning cold and stone like as he walked, almost stumbling to his friend and raised the bat for the first blow.

Alfred dropped the bat to the floor, a loud clattering rang about the room as he stared at the now dead Brazilian. His head caved in from the vicious blows of the bat, and his arms loosely draped over it, as if he could of protected himself from the damage that the American inflicted with the bat.

The teen was shaking vigorously as he took a step backward, shaking his head in motion. He'd really done it . . . he'd killed Davi.


End file.
